Shadow Rising
by MN07
Summary: A story about the return of Sauron. I own none of these characters or locations. ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE TOLKIEN ESTATE.
1. Return of The Lord

_Hi guys! This is my first fan-fic, a story that takes place several years after the events of Return of the King. If you guys like it, I'll keep posting!_

Middle Earth was finally at peace. The age of men was beginning, the days of sorcery and elves were diminishing… Or so they thought. When The Ring of Power was inadvertently dropped into Orodruin, a massive amount of energy was dispelled. The great tower of Barad-dûr crumbled to the ground, and the ever-watching eye blinked out.

Energy cannot be created by any other than Eru Ilúvatar himself, and even that is debatable. This law, however, applies to Sauron too. He did not die. He never did. Simply, his power, his spirit was scattered throughout the confines of Middle Earth. There was only one small flaw in the plan conceived by the Council of Elrond. Sauron had willpower, nearly to the likes of Morgoth himself. Sure, he may have been more powerful, but Sauron was smarter. He had survived for years, he had witnessed the ages go by, the rise and fall of empires, races, and he was not about to give up.

Somewhere upon the ruined slopes of Mount Doom, the deathly still landscape was being disturbed. For years now, there had been no movement within Mordor. Even the destructive volcano had been dormant. However, there was a power within, a great, dark power. The earth trembled and began to split, the ever darkened sky churned, and a fire awoke. More and more, the power grew, and with one astounding crack, a figure appeared. Shrouded in death, darkness, and fire, it struggled. It began to glow brighter, as the fire burned around it, power seeping into the silhouette. Within a moment, everything fell down to the ground, the skies calming, and leaving behind a silence louder than before.

Only the figure remained, kneeling, breathing heavily. It was donned in battle armor, badly beaten. It took off his helmet, casting it to the side, and getting up. He was over 9 feet tall, his face scarred, but handsome. His hair was long and black, his face sharp, much like an elf. He began to laugh, and he looked up, opening his eyes. They were the color of fire.


	2. Deathless, Nameless

Here's Chapter 2! Enjoy.

 **-Deathless, Nameless**

Slowly, he walked up the slopes of Mount Doom, the gravel crunching loudly under his blackened iron boots. Before long, he reached what had once been the entrance to the crack of doom. Now, it was a sharp and jagged cave of obsidian. As he ventured in, he found the bridge destroyed, broken into several different pieces, each at a different level. The black ground reflected a red glow, the lava below simmering, agitated. Ever since that fateful day, it had never calmed. It churned, restless. An essence rose from the lava, dark and powerful. It went straight into Sauron's chest. He promptly turned around, and stormed out, not even flinching. Once he reached the outside again, he took a deep breath and smiled.

His armor fell away from him, and with a flash of light, he changed his form. He was death, destruction unto itself.

"I am The Enemy, The Shadow, Annatar the Deceiver, The Giver of Gifts. I am Gorthaur the Cruel, The Terrible, The Necromancer, THE DARK LORD, RULER OF MIDDLE EARTH! I AM SAURON!" He roared, his voice spreading throughout Arda, to whoever would hear it. "Come to me, my servants, serve me once more!"

Within moments, nine flaming spirits, black and green slammed into the ground, filling the air with a thick, black smoke. The wraiths thrashed in agony, screaming as the ground burned around them.

Amidst the screams, one figure, disfigured and bloody, rose from the ground, his helmet crushed on one side, his armor defiled.

"Why are we here… We were at rest, we were at PEACE!" His voice was little more than a harsh whisper, yet it carried over the screams, over the noise. Slowly, the other eight, rose up, their shapes contorted with wrath and agony. "Your ring is gone! You control us no more!"

Sauron turned to them, his faceless figure staring into their forgotten, withered souls, and he spoke, his voice quiet and deadly "You fools… I am the servant of Morgoth, I will not die so easily. I need no ring to control you, for now, I AM THE RING!" His figure flashed, surrounded by fire, as if he was the eye once more, then turned just as quickly into his terrible form. Once again, he towered over the Nazgûl, wearing a cloak of shadow, his armor blacker than before, and his eyes ever burning.

"I control you, and you will do my bidding… Or you will die." With a mere turn of his hand, they fell to their knees, once again in agony.

"You are deathless, nameless. You serve me…"

"You serve The Dark Lord."


End file.
